


At The Movies

by pxincessofcolor



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 03:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pxincessofcolor/pseuds/pxincessofcolor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy and Howard honor Steve in the only way they feel is right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At The Movies

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. so, I kind of got this idea from discussing Captain America: The Winter Solider with some friends/fellow fans, and it kind of didn't go way. So, here it is. I apologize. for any grammar/spelling/formatting issues or mistakes. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I in any way affiliated with, Captain America or any of its characters.

Peggy Carter flipped her wrist and looked down at her silver wristwatch. Howard was late again. Something that wasn’t out of the ordinary for him. But the occurrence had increased exponentially since Steve—she let the rest sort of hang there, not wanting to finish it, not knowing how to finish it. She tapped her foot, letting the tip of her shoe hit the leg of the small wooden table on the side of the chair she was sitting in. He was going to make her wait, though she wasn’t entirely sure yet if that was his intention. She gave a deep, exasperated sigh. This wasn’t even her idea. It was his. She only agreed because he was practically begging her. “Carter, please, for all that is good in the world, for all that you stand for, please,” she heard in Howard’s plea.

 

She grabbed the newspaper from the end table next to her, scanning the front page quickly. _I wonder what they’ve concocted now_ , she thought, flipping the pages. There was an explosion at an old factory a few days ago. The newspaper stated it was due to faulty wiring and a very bad gas leak. They were even to get a quote from one of the city’s investigators stating that “the explosion was due to happen at any moment. The whole thing was a fire hazard.”. Peggy tilted her head to the side, accepting the story as a good cover. The explosion, in all actuality, had little to do with gas and faulty wiring, and more to do with the fact it was a HYDRA hideout…and faulty wiring. She wasn’t sure if the explosion was meant to destroy whatever evidence was inside—including people—or if it was all just a bunch of extreme circumstantial terms adding together forming one large, fiery, singeing, explosive result. Either way, it left S.H.I.E.L.D. with a destroyed factory, a few injured agents, and no new knowledge about HYDRA.

 

       “He’ll be just a minute more,” a butler said, stepping in briefly. Peggy looked up and smiled at him, and said “Thank You”, making sure not to mention that he’d said that about thirty minutes ago. A few short moments after the butler left, the large French doors parted. Howard Stark stood in the large doorway in a red velvet coat, pipe in one hand and martini glass in another. Peggy’s face dropped a little, all of the irritation at his tardiness was briefly replaced with sadness. He was already drinking. Steve’s crash had more effect on him that he wanted to admit, even to her. All of her attempts to even briefly mention it, how he was feeling, coping, anything, he would find a way to either quickly change the subject or shut down immediately. She didn’t move from her spot yet. His eyes were red rimmed. Had he been crying, not enough sleep, both? She was almost afraid to ask, and knew that even if she did, he wouldn’t tell her the truth, making it futile.

 

    “Carter!” He exclaimed, arms stretched out. “You made it! Didn’t think you would.” He took a sip from the pink liquid in the martini glass he was holding.

   

     “You’re late,” she said, a lot less stern than she intended to. _You’re killing yourself, Stark_ , she thought sadly, _you’re killing yourself, and I don’t know how to help you._ “I’ve been here for an _entire_ hour. As in hour ago, as in the time we _agreed_ to.” 

      “I stayed up late,” he said, shrugging. 

 

She sighed. “Be glad you’re drunk, Stark,” she said, not entirely realizing the weight of what she said until the words actually left her mouth. 

      “Carter, I’ve been glad I’ve been drunk since…” The words didn’t leave his mouth, but understanding and silence filled the small void between the two of them. He didn’t have to say it. “Anyway, follow me.” 

      “I’m starting to the get smallest feeling I always do,” she said jokingly, hoping to change the air around them.

______________________________

 

Peggy moved slightly in her seat, her back slowly relaxing against the velvet-like chairs. She hated to admit it, and more likely than not would never say it aloud, but the seats were a lot more comfortable than she expected them to be. She heard the sound of wheels and turned her head toward the outside aisle. She smiled, covering her mouth, attempting not to show it. Howard Stark rolled down a trolley full of candy and popcorn along with a few other sweet things she didn’t even remember since the last time _she’d_ gone to the theater.

      “Popcorn, Agent Carter?” he asked, already filling a red and blue striped bag before she fully agreed. “This is the first time I’m using my new theater,” he said, handing her the almost over stuffed bag. “I felt it would be best to treat like an actual theater at least once.” 

 

She ate a few pieces, debating how to ask him how he was. _“Howard, no really, how are you holding up?” “Howard, are you okay?” “Do you want to talk about it, Stark?”_ Nothing formed or strung together in her head that she hadn’t already asked, and that he hadn’t already dismissed or rebuffed without so much as a second glance. He sat down next to her, and she noticed that his martini glass had gotten refilled in the time he left her in the home theater and going to go get her “surprise”. Howard rose his hand and made a circular motion with his index finger. She grabbed another handful of popcorn as the theater began to darken while the large screen began to brighten up. She gave a small glance over at him as he took a sip from the pink liquid in his glass.

 

    “When all else fails, when there is no hope, there is always one man who can be counted on to save the day,” the narrator stated to the backdrop of an American flag. “And that man is our hero, Steve Rogers.” There was a small pause. “Known better as Captain America.” The patriotic music grew in level, coming toward them at full blast.

 

     “Carter, if you don’t want to watch this, you don’t have to,” he said, sincerely, his hand lying on top of hers. “I can be a real bastard sometimes, but I’m not entirely heartless.”

 

      “No,” she said, holding up her hand, “Steve would’ve wanted me to watch it.” She smiled wryly. “I want to watch it; I want to tell him how bad it was when I see him again.” _If I see him again_ , she thought as she kept her face as still as she possibly could.

 

       “Yes, he would want our opinions on how accurate they were,” Howard said. The smile he gave afterward seemed more for her sake, and didn't actually reach his eyes. He turned back toward the screen, away from her.

 

She opened her mouth then closed it. _Say something_. “Howard—”

 

     “Starring Cary Grant as Steve Rogers,” the announcer spoke, interrupting her.

 

Peggy looked over at him. Nothing she said at this juncture would get to him. She felt helpless. So, she said the first thing that came to mind she actually thought he’d respond to. “I’m honestly kind of surprised they got him for this,” Peggy stated, crossing her legs at the ankles.

 

      “Why? He’s a good looking guy, has that patriotic, All-American charm about him,” Howard replied with a small shrug, pulling the martini glass away from his mouth.

 

      “Yes, true. But Steve has more of a younger, enthusiastic charm about him. Steve is—” Peggy looked over, and noticed the sly grin Howard was giving her, his mouth close to the martini glass. “What?” she asked.

 

      “Nothing. Nothing at all, Carter.”

 

      “Starring Lauren Bacall as the Captain’s Lover, Peggy Carter,” the announcer said, a picture of Bacall with a similar hairstyle to Peggy’s showed in an oval shaped frame. Howard choked as Peggy’s mouth dropped open.

 

       “I’m _not_ his lover,” she said loudly, standing. Or rather, just his lover. Did an almost date, a few long stares, and a small amount of mindless flirting really count as being lovers? In either case, she was more than that. A heroine in her own right, much to the disbelief a lot of people apparently had.

 

       “Oh, calm down, Carter, it’s just a movie,” he said, pulling her down gently back into her seat. He laughed.

 

       “It’s not like there’s only going to be this one.”

 

Her eyes widened then narrowed. “What do you mean by that, Stark?”

 

        “Steve’s story is one that should be told for years and years to come.” He waved his free hand in a circular wave for emphasis.

 

         “What do you mean by there isn’t going to be just this one?”

 

He snorted. “Who do you think provided the funding for this one?”

 

She reminded herself to breathe. Yes, she was _truly_ beginning to detest and regret the day she met Howard Stark.


End file.
